


Why cry over the things you can't change?

by Lii2pyiidiiot



Category: South Park
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 12:13:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1778722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lii2pyiidiiot/pseuds/Lii2pyiidiiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tweek tweak doesn't understand why these things happen to him, why his mind is so broken and different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why cry over the things you can't change?

**Author's Note:**

> (A.N: this is my first official fanfiction. By golly gosh I'm happy I finally decided to write it. I will update AT LEAST twice a week. I look forward to hearing what you think.)

Prologue 

His world was much more sickening, darker, than just a few twitches and unexplained "oh god"'s. It was painful, and went on without escape. He felt as if the world was completely against him, he had no control over anything. Yeah, that's right. The only thing Tweek Tweak has is fear, and a lot of it. Perhaps more than the average person dare to handle. It was a hassle, it ate at him from the inside out. It dug its way into its brain to lay its copious amounts of eggs before traveling and invading every inch of him. Nearly every night, he'd lay in bed. He lay just listening to all the creaks his floor would make. They make him completely uneasy. So uneasy he was terrified. He couldn't even move. He knew what was out there, he new it could hurt him. No, he KNEW it would hurt him. That is, if he dared to let it, or them, notice he was awake. He inhaled deeply and quietly, begging to not be heard. He'd hit an unexplainable terror, it was taking control over him once again. His muscles threatened to twitched from the strain and stress. His voice begged to let out choked sobs and muffled sounds. But he could only lay, silent, paralyzed from fear. That was, only until the sun once again came out an he had the right to be awake. It felt like an eternity, though it always did. He never had a clue what time it was, nor how much longer he'd have to lay in utter fear. But he'd always managed to do it. He stared at the fan, loosing count of how many times it spins after 500. He felt sick. He wanted to escape, but he knew they'd find him. They /always/ find him.


End file.
